Music Of My Soul
by Addicted to Edward Cullen
Summary: Edward Cullen is a depressed loner when he meets Jasper Whitlock. Jasper seems to soothe Edward's soul, but he has his own demons to conquer. Can Edward and Jasper heal each other and find the love they both desperately need? M for lang, possible lemons
1. Prelude

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Prelude  
Pen name: Addicted to Edward  
Pairing: Edward/Bella for now, will be Edward/Jasper later  
Rating:M

Summary: Sometimes love is found where you least expect it. Edward Cullen is a depressed loner when he meets Jasper Whitlock. Jasper soothes Edward's soul, but he has his own demons to conquer. Can Edward and Jasper heal each other?

A/N: This is the first of 25 chapters that will be my submission to the Twilight 25 challenge. This story has been consuming me for the past few weeks, ever since the wonderful Michelle M Marie planted the most delicious vision in my head. You'll just have to wait and see. She is also my pre-reader and I love her for it! Check out my profile to find her link and give her some love!

A HUGE thanks goes out to my PTB betas who have been wonderful. I'm surprised they haven't gone running for the hills yet to get away from my obsessiveness. Thank you so much, SueBob, Maggie Cullen, Brandy, and Kendra.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, just a soft and cuddly Edward blanket. If I did own Twilight, Edward and Jasper would spend a lot more time together...

* * *

**Chapter 1: Prelude  
Music Inspiration: **Bella's Lullaby -- Carter Burwell  
River Flows In You --Yiruma

_Three Years Ago..._

"Will you be home soon, love?" I asked, trying to cradle the phone on my shoulder without hitting any buttons. It was a lost cause.

"Yes. I am just finishing up and then I'll be on my way."

"See you soon."

"I love you," she replied softly. I smiled, imagining the blush that would be on her cheeks as she said the words.

"As I love you."

I placed the phone back on its base and rushed back to the stove. I never was very good at multitasking when it came to Bella, even just talking to her on the phone. The tomato and meat sauce was bubbling over the edge of the pot now, leaving red splotches all over the white stove.

"Dammit," I muttered as I mentally added that to the list of things that I'd have to clean up before Bella got home. At least the sauce wasn't ruined.

I moved the pot off the heat. Reading the recipe three more times to make sure I was doing everything properly, I layered the sauce with the noodles and the cheese in the pan. When I finished, it wasn't the neatest lasagna ever created, but the recipe promised it to be delicious.

I checked the recipe again to ensure that covering the dish with aluminum foil was correct. I set the timer to a few minutes before the suggested time, just in case. Can't serve my Bella burnt lasagna, after all.

I surveyed the kitchen to assess the damage. The salad was tossed so I didn't have to worry about that, just the scraps of chopped vegetables I'd left scattered over the counter. The garlic bread could wait until the last fifteen minutes of baking, and I had the butter out to soften to make it easier to spread. The pots and bowls stacked in the sink threatened to topple over onto the floor. And, of course, the hardening sauce splattered on the stove. And the counter. And the floor. _Fuck me._

It was a twenty-minute trip from the University library to here. I could get this place back to normal before Bella got home, no problem. I never understood how she was able to create her culinary masterpieces without making messes like this. If she saw what I'd done to her pristine kitchen, she'd never let me in here again. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing…but I do like to surprise her now and then.

The kitchen was back to order with minutes to spare. I set the table and then lit two long candlesticks placed in the center.

I sat at my piano, running my fingers up and down in scales, warming up so I could properly serenade my Bella when she arrived home. I began to play the piece I'd composed, inspired by her, losing myself in the music.

I jumped when the oven timer buzzed, marking forty-five minutes passed. Still, Bella was not home. I checked the lasagna, removing the foil to allow the cheese to brown. It smelled delicious.

I called Bella's cell phone. It wasn't unlike her to get lost in a book at the library, even one she just caught out of the corner of her eye on the way out the door. The phone rang and rang and finally, her voicemail greeted me. "Bella, just wondering where you are. Call me."

I returned to the piano. She was probably on the way home. Ever the responsible one, Bella almost never answered the phone while she was driving.

When the oven buzzed again, fifteen minutes later, I started to get worried. I removed the lasagna from the oven and placed it on the counter to set. I'd do the garlic bread when she arrived so it'd be piping hot.

I called her cell again, and this time, her voicemail picked up right away. "Bella, love, I'm getting worried. Please, call me."

I sat back down at the piano, breathing deeply to calm my nerves. _Everything's fine, there's a perfectly logical explanation._ But a feeling of dread was starting to spread through me. _What if her old truck broke down and she's stranded on the road? _Maybe she was calling for a tow truck when I called her. _But she'd know to call me if she was in trouble, wouldn't she? That I'd come to help her right away?_

Ignoring the growing knot in my stomach, I started playing again. I forced myself to restart the song each time I finished, focusing on each and every note and chord to distract myself from Bella's absence.

After another half hour, the candles on the table were still burning. And Bella was still not home. I called her cell again but didn't bother leaving a message this time. I called every one of her friends whose phone number I could find. None of them had seen her or heard from her all evening.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I dialed one more number.

"Charlie, it's Edward."

"This is a surprise. What can I do for you, Edward?"

"It's Bella. She should have been home over an hour ago. I can't reach her on her phone and none of her friends have seen her and –" The longer I spoke, the faster my words came.

"Whoa, slow down. I'm sure everything's fine –"

"It's not, I know it's not. She was just at the library working on a paper. She should be home by now. Something's wrong, I know it. I just…didn't know who else to call. I know you can help."

Charlie sighed. "Listen, Edward, as Chief of Police, I can tell you it's too early to call the police. If they started a missing person's case every time someone was a little late coming home, well…nothing would get done."

"I know, but –"

"As a father, though, I hear your concern. If you're worried about Bella, that makes _me _worried. But we can't jump to conclusions so quickly."

"Maybe I should go look for her."

"No, I think it would be better for you to stay home. If she comes home soon, which I'm sure she will, you won't know it. Or if she tries to call home, you'll want to be there."

"I just feel so _useless_ sitting here."

"I know. Tell you what. Call me when you hear from her or when she gets home. If another hour goes by with nothing, I'll call the Seattle Police Department. I can't promise they'll do anything, but I'll try. There's not much else I can do from here in Forks."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"You got it. And, please, call me the minute you hear from her."

I'd hoped to feel better after talking to Charlie, but I didn't. I began to pace, trying to prevent the horrible images in my mind from forming. Bella lost and scared. Bella in a car accident. Bella hurt. Or worse.

Every noise I heard in the hallway of the apartment building had me opening the door, hoping to see her. It was never Bella, always some other neighbor.

The candles on the table had burned themselves out by the time the phone rang again. I answered before the caller I.D. even registered.

"Bella?"

"No, sorry, Edward."

The knot in my stomach tightened. "Charlie."

"I called the Seattle P.D. just like I promised. They agreed to send a patrol car out to the campus and travel the roads between there and your apartment as well as the surrounding area, but beyond that…they won't really do much more until she's been missing for twenty-four hours."

"I should be out there too, helping…"

"No, Edward. They want you to stay there, in case she comes home or in case…in case the hospital calls…" His voice wavered at the end, but he cleared his throat. Back to Police Chief Swan. "And I agree with them. Let them do their jobs."

"Okay, if you think that's best."

"I do. We'll find her."

* * *

I had no idea what time it was. It could have been hours. It could have been days. My relentless pacing should have worn a hole right through the floor. Charlie's words were the only thing that kept me here. The feeling inside me that I should be out there, looking for her, was harder and harder to fight back. My hand was on the doorknob when the phone rang.

When Charlie's name appeared on the caller I.D. instead of Bella's, my stomach dropped.

"Edward…" His cracked voice on the other side of the line confirmed my worst fears. Something horrible had happened.


	2. Dark

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Dark  
Pen name: Addicted to Edward  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper later  
Rating:M

**Summary:** Sometimes love is found where you least expect it. Edward Cullen is a depressed loner when he meets Jasper Whitlock. Jasper soothes Edward's soul, but he has his own demons to conquer. Can Edward and Jasper heal each other?

**A/N:** Nominations for The Indie Awards are still open -- have you sent in your nominations yet? http://www (dot) theindietwificawards (dot) com/

A HUGE thanks goes out to my PTB betas who have been wonderful. I'm surprised they haven't gone running for the hills yet to get away from my obsessiveness. Thank you so much, SueBob, Maggie Cullen, Brandy, and Kendra! Thanks, as always, to Michelle M Marie as well, for being my pre-reader, and for the original inspiration that started this journey!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, but Edward Cullen owns me...which is pretty sad, considering he's a fictional character and all....

* * *

**Chapter 2: **Dark_  
Present Day…_

_Tell me, what kind of man would I be?  
Living a life without any meaning  
And I know you could surely survive without me  
But if I have to live without you  
Tell me, what kind of man would I be?  
_

-- What Kind of Man Would I Be? by Chicago

* * *

Jogging down the dark streets of D.C. was my nighttime ritual. Nearly every night, sometime past ten o'clock, I took off from my apartment, destination unknown. I never took the same exact path twice, and it didn't matter where I went. As long as I found a metro station before midnight, I could get home without a problem.

By the time I reached this darker, less-populated area, I had sufficiently warmed up my body. I was no longer chilly in the February air wearing no coat, just an oversized hoodie. Not that it mattered if I was cold. Shivering in the winter air was just part of my penance.

I was passing an alley when the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I couldn't actually hear the woman crying out for help; it was more like I sensed her distress. Screams reverberated in my mind, except that they were in Bella's voice, not a stranger's. A chill went down my back and my hands clenched into fists.

I pulled my beanie lower over my forehead and put my hood over my head, shrouding my face in as much shadow as possible. I turned into the alley, and the further I walked, the more clearly I could hear the sounds of a struggle. Picking up a piece of wood that was lying on the ground, I crept forward, staying as close to the wall as I could.

Thirty feet in front of me, I could make out the shapes in the darkness. They became clearer and clearer as I inched closer. A man was pressing a woman against the wall. She struggled against him, but he was too strong.

"Help me! Please help me!" Bella's voice screamed in my head. In my mind's eye, I could see her brown eyes, wide with fear. "Edward, save me!"

Between catching him off-guard and the adrenaline that was pumping through my body in overdrive, it was not difficult to pull the man away from the woman by the back of his shirt.

"What th—"

I didn't let him finish his statement before I swung the piece of wood into his stomach. He groaned and fell to the ground.

The woman behind us let out a small scream, still not loud enough to alert anyone from the main street.

"Get out of here!" I called over my shoulder before slamming the wood down on the man's back.

He cried out. _Not so tough now, are you?_

I threw the wood farther into the alley and began kicking anywhere I could reach as he curled into a ball. I got at least one good shot to his face, probably breaking his nose, judging by the blood that gushed out.

"That is not how you treat a lady, you douche bag asshole!" I growled through clenched teeth, punctuating each word with another stomp of my foot.

When he was a whimpering, bloody mess, I turned away. Hopefully, some bones were broken in the process. I took a few steps, still seething, when I realized the woman was pressed against the wall, staring at me.

I continued down the alley, back to the street. "You shouldn't still be here. Go!" I ordered, not looking at her.

When she didn't respond and I didn't hear any movement, I turned back to her, staying in the shadows. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and began walking toward me. Her legs were so shaky that her knees buckled. A gentleman would help her, make sure she got home safely. But I was far from a gentleman.

"I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did," she whispered.

_I know what could have happened. _Bella's lifeless body flashed in my mind. I turned my back to her again and walked faster.

"Thank you!" she called behind me, as loud as her voice would allow.

I kept walking.

"I'm nobody's hero," I muttered.

I pushed my hood back and adjusted my beanie before stepping out from the alley. I walked a few more blocks before ducking into another one. I leaned against the wall in the shadows, my legs slowly folding beneath me. I crossed my arms over my knees and pressed my forehead against them. Tears rolled down my cheeks as silent sobs shook my body.

"I'm sorry, Bella," I whispered.

* * *

"You watch the Caps game last night?"

I rolled my eyes. Apparently, Ben Cheney was not getting the hint that I didn't want to make small talk. He was leaning over my desk, fiddling with the cables behind my computer.

He straightened up and moved the monitor back in place. "It was a good one."

When I still didn't respond, he glanced at me.

"No, I don't watch hockey. You almost done?" I asked pointedly.

He flicked the power switch. "Yeah, just need to boot this baby up and copy over a few files, then you're good to go."

"Great."

I watched the screen as the computer started, refusing to look at Ben lest he take that to mean I wanted to chitchat. He finally got the hint and turned to watch the screen as well, as if he could unravel the world's mysteries simply by watching an hourglass turn.

When the computer was finally ready, he inserted a USB drive and made a few quick clicks with the mouse.

"Alright, you're all set," he announced, turning back to me. "If you have any more problems, just give IT a call."

I nodded and pulled my chair under the desk once he got out of the way.

He nodded back and left. _Finally._

He was already down the hall and out of sight when I realized he'd left his USB drive attached to my computer. He could come back and get it himself.

I logged myself into the control system and set my phone to "active." It would only be minutes before it would start ringing, and I'd have to listen to some poor slob cry about being in debt. _Suck ass job. At least it pays the bills and it's not a sales pitch._

The hours passed slowly, even with the near constant stream of calls. Every day, every call was just a variation on the same theme. Excuse after excuse, sob story after sob story, as if anything one could say to me would better their chances for being qualified for credit card debt relief. _Nope, I'm just a worker bee in the call center; just give me your information and skip the sad tales because I don't fucking care, and it doesn't make a difference whether you qualify or not. Thanks for calling, goodbye._

No sane person with a college degree would take this job. But what good was a B.A. in Music when music no longer had any meaning in one's life?

As I logged out of the system, I realized that Ben hadn't come back for his drive. Sighing, I picked it up and headed for the IT department upstairs. Ten minutes of walking up and down the cubicle corridors and I finally found the one with his name. He was sitting at his computer, typing away.

"Ben."

He nearly jumped out of his seat. "Edward? Still having problems with your computer? You could've just called, you know."

"No," I replied, handing him the USB drive. "You left this at my desk."

His eyes widened. "Oh my God, I can't believe I forgot it! Thank you for returning it!"

His overzealous thank you caught me off guard. _Not really that big a deal._ "No problem."

I started to turn away but he grabbed my arm. "Seriously, man, thanks. I owe you one!"

_Now you're starting to creep me out_. "That's not necessary." I pulled my arm away and left.

* * *

Later that night, I was poured the bright orange powder that somehow passed for cheese into the pot and began stirring. Three loud thumps on my front door nearly made me jump. There's only one person who'd be coming to see me, and he's the only person I'd care to see, anyway, though I'd much rather sit and eat my mac and cheese in peace.

"EDWARD!" a booming voice called when I didn't answer right away. "I know you're there. You're always at home!"

Reluctantly, I opened the door. My freakishly huge brother practically filled the entire doorway.

"I'm not sure the people three floors down heard you. Maybe you should speak up next time." I stepped aside so he could walk into the apartment.

"Hello to you, too, asshole. How about something a little nicer, like 'Hello, my awesome brother. How nice of you to stop by while you happened to be in the neighborhood.'?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why, Emmett, how lovely of you to stop by this evening." I did my best impression of a Southern Belle, even batting my eyelashes. It wasn't very good. "What do you want?"

"You're coming out with us tomorrow night," he stated, as though it was a fact set in stone.

"No, I'm not."

He laughed. "Oh, yes, you are."

My eyes narrowed. "Who's 'us'?"

"Me and Rose. You know, the wedding is less than six months away. You should at least meet your future sister-in-law."

"I can meet her at the wedding. It's not like you need my approval or anything."

"Oh, so you're actually going to _attend _the wedding? The great Edward Cullen will honor us with his presence?"

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, man, you need to get out of the apartment sometime. I know you spend your nights sitting here, alone. That's not healthy."

"You don't know _anything_," I said through clenched teeth.

Emmett raised his eyebrows and clapped his large hand on my shoulder. "I know you better than anyone else, Edward."

_There's a lot you don't know about me, Emmett._ But I couldn't say that out loud. There was a side of me that Emmett could _never _know about, and yet it _was_ true that he knew me better than anyone else.

"Okay, you're right," I agreed reluctantly.

"So you'll come?"

"I didn't say that."

"Come on, bro." – _God, he's annoying when he whines like a five-year-old_ – "Rose keeps bugging me about meeting you. She wanted to come along tonight, but I talked her out of it. See? Told you I know you."

His shit-eating grin was hard to resist. I almost smiled.

"Be honest – do you already have plans for tomorrow night?" he pressed.

"Well, no, but –"

"But, nothing. You've lived here for three fucking years now. Have you even seen _any _of the nightlife in this great city?"

_More than you know._

"I don't think I'm really up for any clubs or anything like that."

"No clubs, no bars. Promise."

"Will you leave me the hell alone if I agree to go?"

I could see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Can't make any long-term promises on that." _At least he's honest. _"How about I leave you alone for a week?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Not good enough."

"Two weeks?"

"A month. At least."

He sighed. "All right. One month."

"You'll leave me alone for an entire month? Thirty days?"

"I won't bug you to come out of your apartment for thirty days. Deal?"

I growled. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"That's as good as you're going to get, bro. Come out with us tomorrow night, or I'll hound you every night until you do."

_Okay, how bad could this really be?_

"Shit," I muttered as I ran my hand through my hair. "Tomorrow night only."

Emmett pumped his fist in the air. "YES!"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, you can leave now," I said, opening the door and motioning with my head.

"Dress nicely." He started walking out the door.

"Wait, where are we going?"

"The Kennedy Center, 7:30. Rose's cousin is a ballet dancer, and she has tickets for tomorrow night's performance."

He shut the door behind him without waiting for a response. Smart man.

_Ballet? Fuck me. Or, better yet, kill me now._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:**OK, don't get too spoiled by these super-quick updates. It won't always be this way. But, if I complete the challenge, the entire story will be posted by April 1...so I am hoping to get a couple chapters up every week. Hmmm...I have a lot of catching up to do!


	3. Apathy

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Apathy  
Pen name: Addicted to Edward  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
Rating:M

**Summary:** Sometimes love is found where you least expect it. Edward Cullen is a depressed loner when he meets Jasper Whitlock. Jasper soothes Edward's soul, but he has his own demons to conquer. Can Edward and Jasper heal each other?

**A/N: **Thank you for all the reviews and alerts! This is my first multi-chap story and I squee every time I get one of those emails... :-)

A HUGE thanks goes out to my PTB betas who have been wonderful. I'm surprised they haven't gone running for the hills yet to get away from my obsessiveness. Thank you so much, SueBob, Maggie Cullen, Brandy, and Kendra! Thanks, as always, to Michelle M Marie as well, for being my pre-reader, and for the original inspiration that started this journey! And, finally, thanks also to Julie for awesome reviews, ideas, and encouragement!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, but come April, I _will_ own a Jasper doll to keep my Edward doll company!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Apathy**

_Yesterday it seemed to me  
My life was nothing more than wasted time  
But here today you've softly changed my mind._

-- Baby What a Big Surprise by Chicago

* * *

I noticed Emmett standing outside the Kennedy Center before he saw me. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a tall, statuesque blond. She looked annoyed. This must be _the _Rosalie Hale.

Automatically, I compared her to Bella. She was Bella's opposite. Her long blond hair was curled into waves that draped over her shoulders. The make-up painted on her face was meant to accentuate her beauty, but to me it was too much. I'd always preferred a more natural look. Her long, wool coat left only a hint of her curves visible, but from the way she carried herself, I could tell she knew she was beautiful. Yet, she did nothing for me. I'd take Bella's shyness and simple style any day.

I caught Emmett's eye then and waved. He nudged Rosalie and they walked toward me.

"Well, it's about time you decided to show up!" she seethed.

I was taken aback. _What a bitch!_ "Calm down, Princess. I can't be more than five minutes late. It's not like I control when the metro runs."

She glared at me. "How dare –"

Emmett cleared his throat. "_Sweetheart_, this is my brother, Edward. Edward, my fiancée, Rosalie Hale."

_Be polite. Be polite. Be polite. _I held out my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Rosalie."

She looked at my hand as if it were a contagious disease. Huffing, she turned away and headed toward the entrance, pulling Emmett along by the hand. He craned his head around to give me a "Smooth move, asshole" look.

_Looks like I've managed to offend my future sister-in-law with the first words out of my mouth. Tonight is going to be great fun. I get to watch fairies dancing in frilly tutus with the Queen of the Bitches. Wonderful._

I hurried to catch up with them.

"Just give him a chance, Rose," Emmett was saying when I reached them. He was trying to be quiet about it, but nothing about him was ever quiet.

"Fine," Rosalie hissed back.

She continued forward, but Emmett stopped and leaned toward me. "Thanks for coming tonight. I couldn't have survived this alone."

"Whatever." _Can we just get this over with, please?_

We caught up to Rosalie, and she promptly smacked Emmett on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" he cried, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. Who would guess this big baby was a tough D.C. cop?

"I heard what you said. And could you act like a normal human being and keep your voice down?"

He cupped her face in his hands and gave her the puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll behave."

He pressed his lips to hers. I couldn't stand to watch when the kiss became more passionate. Did they forget they were in public? I resisted the urge to interrupt them. The last thing I needed was to get even _more_ on Rosalie's bad side. On the plus side, if she didn't like me, I probably wouldn't have to spend much time with her, though.

After what felt like hours, they pulled away from each other.

"We should check our coats," she said softly, a complete reversal of her previous attitude.

Emmett turned away from her and winked at me. Gotta hand it to Emmett; he knew how to handle his woman.

We handed our coats to the woman behind the counter and stood in line at the entrance to the theatre. Rosalie sneered at my simple button-down shirt and slacks. Apparently, I should have worn a tie like Emmett. Oh well. Her red dress hugged her curves and looked appropriate for a black-tie affair.

An overly cheerful woman thrust programs into each of our hands. "Enjoy the performance!"

My fist clenched around the booklet, folding it in half. Did I really want a reminder of tonight? Maybe it would come in handy for beating Emmett over the head later.

We finally reached the front of the line. Rosalie handed the usher our tickets. He looked down at the tickets and up at us and back at the tickets.

"Pardon me, Miss, but you have four tickets here. Are you waiting for another member of your party to arrive?"

"No, it's just us three."

"Very good, Miss. Follow me, please."

I shot Emmett a quizzical look as we followed the usher into the theatre and down the aisle.

"Garrett and Kate were supposed to be coming with us, but Kate's sick."

"Ahhh…hence the last minute invitation."

Emmett actually looked apologetic.

"I'll bet Garrett's glad he had an excuse," I muttered.

Emmett pressed his fist against his lips to keep his guffaws under control. Rosalie glanced over her shoulder. If looks could kill, Emmett and I would be six feet under already. That was all it took for Emmett to sober up, though.

"Here we are, Orchestra Section A, Row F. Seats 105 through 108, towards the center." The usher highlighted the four seats with his pointer. "Enjoy the performance."

"Thank you," Rosalie replied.

The usher bowed his head slightly before returning to the lobby.

Emmett sat between Rosalie and me – probably a wise choice.

"Wow, Rose, these are actually pretty good seats. Up front and center, but not _too _up front."

I rolled my eyes. Clearly, Emmett was trying to earn brownie points now.

"Yes, well, it helps to have connections. Although, the best seats are in the Box Tier." She motioned to the raised level behind us.

"Right," Emmett agreed, as if he knew anything about the best section to watch a ballet. He leaned over to me. "Listen, man, I'm sorry I didn't think to suggest bringing a date along. I –"

"Don't worry about it. There wasn't anyone I would have brought." I kept my voice as even as possible, but my body was already tensing. I couldn't even think about being with another woman – someone other than my Bella – without a searing pain crossing my chest.

"Yeah, I know. A guy can dream, though, right?" he replied sadly. The pain and worry in his eyes was obvious.

"I'm all right, Emmett. You don't have to worry about me all the time, you know."

"Sure. Sorry I brought it up."

"No blood, no foul." I tried to force a smile on my face. Did I succeed?

"Edward, here's your ticket stub, in case you need it," Rosalie said as she reached over Emmett to hand it to me.

I was actually grateful for Rosalie in that moment. Wonders never cease. "Thanks."

I studied the ticket in my hand for lack of anything better to do. Large capital letters spelled out the title of the ballet I was about to watch:

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

_Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm going to watch a kids' show? A fucking Disney movie? _

There was no way that Emmett kept the title a secret by accident. I leaned over to him. "Sleeping Beauty? Really?"

He shrugged. "Sorry. Not my choice."

Rosalie huffed. "Emmett, next time, leave the grumpy old man home, okay?"

"Gladly," I muttered.

The theatre continued to fill up around us. I glanced around the floor section we were seated, and then behind us. I couldn't see everything from the three levels above us, but from what I was able to make out, it was close to sold out. Who knew ballet was so popular?

The lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play. The sweeping music stirred something deep inside me, threatening to dredge up old memories I wasn't willing to deal with right now. Memories of college, of Bella, of the plans we made…

I squeezed my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose. _Not now, not now, not now_, I chanted to myself.

How had I not anticipated this reaction? I realized, then, how little music I let into my life now, when once it had _been_ my life. Taking in several deep breaths, I focused on clearing my mind and pushing the emotion down. I forced the music to the background, pretending it was white noise.

I opened my eyes just as the first dancers took the stage. I could see the motion, but at the same time, I wasn't really seeing them. To truly watch them would have forced me to hear the music again. I focused instead on the red curtain that lined the top of the stage, studying each fold in the fabric.

_This can't go on for more than two hours, right? I can survive two hours._

After I'd memorized every line in the curtains, I moved on to the walls. Everything was red. Boring. I counted the number of seats in the row in front of me. Twenty-five. I counted all the women I could see in front of me. All the men. Blonds. Brunettes. Bald heads. Everything I could possibly think to count, without turning around in my seat, I did.

The music ended and the lights returned to their original brightness. It'd only been an hour. I knew it couldn't possibly be over already; this must be intermission. Rosalie excused herself to the ladies' room, and Emmett went to search out a snack.

I stayed in my seat, turning the program and ticket stub over and over in my hands. Walking around the lobby, getting a change of scenery, probably would have been smart. But I just couldn't make myself care enough to actually get up.

_Another hour. Half way there. This is worth it to get Emmett off your back for a month._

Rosalie and Emmett returned, and I realized the theatre was filling up again. Intermission must be over soon.

When the music began again, I closed my eyes. If only I could will myself to sleep. Several minutes into it, I could feel a change in the atmosphere. There was a charge in the air, an excitement. I heard sharp intakes of breath, murmurs, and sighs from the various people around me. The audience, who'd been so still the entire time, was suddenly alive in quiet admiration.

I opened my eyes. On the stage, a single man danced from one side of the stage to the other and back, twirling and jumping. The other dancers had moved _with_ the music; he _was_ the music. Every tilt of his head, every kick of his leg, every curve of his arm, everything was so fluid that he seemed inhuman. I couldn't pull my eyes away. Obviously, this was the Prince who would wake the Princess.

"Amazing," Rosalie breathed.

She was right; he was amazing. There was a passion in him that radiated over the audience, pulling everyone in. From the corner of my eye – I couldn't bear to fully turn away from the stage – I could tell that even Emmett was impressed. His jaw was slack, leaving his mouth formed in an "O."

Again, something stirred deep within me. I realized I was beginning to sway to the music, taken away by it. It didn't hurt anymore, as though the joy the dancer emanated in his movements protected me from the sadness.

Had I even blinked yet?

The rest of the performance passed in a blur. The final dance, the wedding of the Prince and the Princess, was so beautiful that I felt tears forming in my eyes. They moved together so perfectly in synchronization; they were music and love personified.

The music ended and the dancers took their final bows. I couldn't take my eyes off the blond Prince who was still breathing heavily from the dancing. My eyes followed him all the way off the stage, and when he was gone from my sight, I felt a longing in the pit of my stomach. Longing mixed with exhilaration.

I couldn't remember walking out of the theater, into the lobby, and back to the coat room. Just out of the blue, Emmett was handing me my jacket. I realized he was looking at me like he was waiting for something.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" I asked awkwardly.

"Are you okay? You haven't looked right since the show ended." Worry creased his brow.

"Oh. Yeah. Fine."

He didn't look like he believed me. "Well, we'll walk with you to Foggy Bottom, but we gotta take the metro in the opposite direction."

"No, you guys go ahead. I…I need to use the restroom. Don't let me hold you up."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely." I nodded, hoping that looked natural enough.

"C'mon, Em. I want to get home," Rosalie whined. "He said he's fine."

"It was nice meeting you, Rosalie," I said, remembering my manners.

"Yes. Likewise," she replied, but it came out more like a question.

With a final wave, they headed toward the door. I looked down at the crumpled program in my hands. Would the dancers' names be listed?

Something had changed within me. A floodlight had turned on where once there was merely a flashlight. More emotions had swirled through me in the last hour than I'd felt in the last three years. I had to know the name of the dancer that did this to me.

I found the cast list and scanned down the page until I found the Prince:

**Prince Florimund……………………………. Jasper Whitlock**

"Jasper," I whispered, trying the name on my lips. I had to meet this Jasper. I had to meet the man who unknowingly woke me up from over three years of apathy.

* * *

**A/N:**

**To answer the most common question left in reviews: **Yes, Jasper is Rosalie's cousin. But Edward doesn't know it, yet.

**About the Kennedy Center: **http://www . kennedy-center . org

_(Edward did not describe the Kennedy Center in detail because he just didn't care. In his depressed, apathetic state, he doesn't notice much of the world around him.)_

**About _The Sleeping Beauty_ the ballet: **http://washingtonballet . org/news-media/ballet-101/#famous

http://www . youtube . com/watch?v=q2ZoIFBEURc&feature=related

http://www . youtube . com/watch?v=pgJUPlnoPFQ&NR=1

http://www . youtube . com/watch?v=7YF3Eiz2fuY


	4. Fragments

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Fragments  
Pen name: Addicted to Edward  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
Rating:M

**Summary:** Sometimes love is found where you least expect it. Edward Cullen is a depressed loner when he meets Jasper Whitlock. Jasper soothes Edward's soul, but he has his own demons to conquer. Can Edward and Jasper heal each other?

**A/N:** Sorry it's been SO LONG since my last update! This chapter gave me some difficulty. But it's here at last! I hope the rest of the chapters won't take this long. Obviously, I'm not going to be able to finish all 25 by April 1 for the Twilight 25, but I'm going to keep plugging away at this story, no matter how long it takes me.

A HUGE thanks goes out to my PTB betas who have been wonderful: SueBob, Maggie Cullen, Brandy, and Kendra. Thanks especially to SueBob for her help with my ballet questions, KenoshaChick for her suggestions on improving this chapter over the lousy first draft I wrote, Julie for her lovely comments and encouragment, and Michelle M Marie for putting up with my whining.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, but I do have Edward and Jasper dolls now. If only they were more posable...

* * *

**Chapter 4: Fragments**

_Wake me up inside (I can't wake up)  
__Wake me up inside (Save me)  
__Call my name and save me from the dark (Wake me up)  
__Bid my blood to run (I can't wake up)  
__Before I come undone (Save me)  
__Save me from the nothing I've become_

_Now that I know what I'm without  
You can't just leave me  
Breathe into me and make me real  
Bring me to life_

-- Bring Me To Life by Evanesence

* * *

"_Edward! Please, help me!" _

"_I'm coming, Bella. Where are you?" I call as I run down the narrow road in the dark. Dim streetlights are all the light I have._

"_Here! I'm here!" _

_I run toward the sound of her voice, but the walls close in on me and I can't go any further. I turn back and try to find another route. _

"_I can't find you, love," I yell frantically. "Where are you?"_

"_Here! Here!" Her voice is fading. _

_The light is fading and the darkness becomes overwhelming. "BELLA!" I scream into the blackness._

"_Edward…," she whispers. And then I hear nothing more._

I heard nothing more except my own screams as I bolted upright in bed. My whole body shook and dripped with sweat.

I only ever had two kinds of dreams anymore. There were the happy ones, the sweet ones, at least until I woke up. They reminded me of the love and happiness I once had but lost, that I'd never find again. I woke up from _those _dreams with a smile on my face, until I realized I was alone in my bed. The other dreams were the nightmares that woke me with screams, adrenaline, and sweat. They were the ones that reminded me of my failure to protect Bella.

I'd gone to bed still on the high I had been feeling from watching Jasper dance last night. I'd hoped that would have spared me from the nightmares, at least for one night, but apparently, I was not so lucky. Even worse, the pain that now coursed through my body felt magnified by ten. I held my head in my hands, digging my fingernails against my scalp. My hands clenched as I pulled at fistfuls of hair, trying to pull oxygen into my lungs. My chest tightened as I gasped at the air, drowning in the loneliness that was my life without Bella.

It hadn't been _this_ bad since the beginning, those first few months after her death. But something had happened inside me last night. The box I'd so carefully wrapped my emotions in and hidden away had ripped open and refused to close again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember the feeling from last night, the pure joy that Jasper's dancing had stirred in me. I tried to picture the way he moved across the stage, so fluid and smooth that it was as if he were an angel, floating just above the ground.

My memory just couldn't do justice to his grace. No matter how hard I tried to envision him, I couldn't recreate that feeling of being wrapped in warmth, protected from sadness.

I would have to see him again.

I forced myself to get out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. _Fuck the shower and fuck shaving. _I splashed water on my face and made a few half-hearted attempts to tame my mess of hair by running my fingers through it.

I pulled on my clothes mechanically, choosing my well-worn jeans and a shirt at random from my closet. After a cup of coffee and two pieces of toast, I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door. The library was just a short walk away and had free internet access.

* * *

As soon as I stepped through the doors of the library and saw the shelves upon shelves of books, I knew it was a mistake to come here. Bella had considered the library her second home. I'd spent many hours in the library at the University of Seattle with her. Her sense of responsibility to her schoolwork had been a good influence on me. Fuckload of good it did me now, though.

_Why didn't I go with her that night?_

It was a question I asked myself over and over, and there was no response I could give myself that satisfactorily answered it.

I leaned against the wall just inside the entrance and tried to catch my breath.

_Focus. Breathe. _

Once I could stand straight again, I wandered aimlessly around the perimeter until I spotted a group of computers arranged in a ring around a circular table. I sat at an available one and clicked the "Log in as Guest" button. While I waited for the computer to finish doing its thing, I gazed at the shelves across from me. "Classic Literature" read the sign above the shelves.

A small smile formed on my lips.

I'd been walking by the narrow aisle of Classic Literature books in library at Forks High School when I'd noticed a girl with long brown hair stretching to reach a book on the very top shelf. She was standing on her tiptoes on a small step stool, apparently not realizing her feet were off-center and causing the stool to begin to tip.

I was no physics genius, but it was beyond obvious that she was going to fall.

Moving faster than I thought possible, I was at her side before the stool completely tipped. She tried to catch herself as she fell, pulling a few books down with her. One hit her on the head and the other three pelted me in the shoulders. Still, I somehow managed to snake my arm around her waist and keep her upright without causing more injury to herself – or me.

"Oh," she gasped when she felt my arm around her.

"Are you all right?" I tried to keep the smile out of my voice and off my face, but it was impossible.

She looked up at me and blushed as she rubbed the spot on her head where the book had hit her. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. I should have known better than to try to reach that book on my own."

I didn't release my hold on her right away. I was too busy staring into her large, brown eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. She simply stared back at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled a minute later as I pulled my arm from her. As soon as she was out of my arms, I yearned to touch her again. I swallowed. "Which book did you want? I'd be happy to get it for you."

She blinked several times. "Book? Oh, right! It's this one," she said as she bent to pick up one of the books that had fallen. "The books didn't hit you when they fell, did they?"

I smirked. "I'll live."

She covered her face in embarrassment. "Oh, God! I'm so sorry!"

I resisted the urge to take her hand and pull it away from blocking my view of her eyes. "It's not a big deal. Really. Here, let me put these back for you."

"You really don't have to do that…"

"I wouldn't want you to fall again," I teased.

She scowled at me, and I couldn't hold back my laughter at her anger. She was just so … _adorable_. As if she could even hurt a fly.

I picked up the remaining books off the floor and righted the step stool. I replaced the books on the shelf easily and turned to face her again.

"I'm Edward Cullen," I said, holding out my hand.

"Bella. Bella Swan." She placed her small hand in mine, and my heartbeat immediately quickened with her touch.

"Excuse me, are you still using that computer?" a nasally voice said from behind me.

"What?" I said, confused as I slowly came out of my memories and back to reality. I blinked and stared at the computer screen in front of me.

"Are you still using that computer?" the woman repeated, very slowly as if I were incompetent.

"Yes. I am," I snapped as I clicked the mouse to bring up the web browser.

She huffed and walked away. I pulled out the wrinkled ticket stub from my pocket and smoothed it out as best I could. "The Washington Ballet" it said, so that's what I typed in for the search term, and the number one result was the official website. Perfect.

The first thing I looked for was the calendar of events. There was another performance of _The Sleeping Beauty _this afternoon and this evening. Clicking the series of links brought me to The Kennedy Center's website and eventually to ticket ordering.

_Sold out? Seriously, not a single fucking ticket?_

I returned to the website for The Washington Ballet to find the next performance. _Fuck me_. Not only was tonight's the last one for _The Sleeping Beauty_, but there were no shows the entire month of March.

I couldn't go an entire month like this, no longer numb, especially not without learning more about Jasper and why he had this strange effect on me. I would gladly sit through two more hours of ballet if it would bring me the same joy it did last night. I would do anything to get rid of the ache in my chest.

Perhaps there were simply no tickets available online, but if I went to the studio, they'd have some available to purchase in person. I explored the rest of the ballet website and found Jasper's picture and a brief history of his ballet experience:

**JASPER WHITLOCK**, of Dallas, TX, is in his tenth season with The Washington Ballet and has spent his entire professional dancing career with the Company. Some of the many dances he has performed include the role of Lucentioin John Cranko's _The Taming of the Shrew_ and a principal role in William Forsythe's _In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated._ In addition to becoming one of The Washington Ballet's most talented principal dancers, Mr. Whitlock has recently taken to choreographing new ballets for the Company to perform. Before joining The Washington Ballet, Mr. Whitlock trained with the Ballet Academy of Texas under Ms. Jenny Johnston and Mr. Thomas Nicholson.

I printed that page out and continued exploring the website. I found a few more pictures of Jasper in various ballet positions randomly throughout the site and printed those out as well. Finally, I printed the page with the directions to the studio. It looked simple enough, a few stops away on the metro and then several blocks south on Wisconsin Avenue.

I logged off the computer and walked down the Classic Literature aisle. My fingers trailed along the spines as I looked for one in particular.

"Catcher in the Rye?" I'd asked, pointing to the book in Bella's hand.

She shrugged. "I need it for reference for my English Lit essay. I couldn't bring all my books with me, just my very favorites. The rest are back home with my mom."

I smirked. "Very studious for your first day."

"How do you know it's my first day?"

I resisted the urge to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, just to see if it felt as soft as it looked. "It's Forks High School. Look around, Bella. Everyone knows everyone. Except the new girl." I winked.

Her cheeks had reddened ever so slightly. "Oh. Right."

I pulled the book from the shelf and ran my fingers over the title. "I miss you," I whispered.

I went to the front desk to pick up my printouts and check out the book. I rolled my eyes as I filled out the paperwork to get a library card, but once I had the card in my hand, I smiled. Bella would have considered her library card one of her most prized possessions.

I folded the papers in half and stuck them in the book before heading toward the metro stop two blocks away.

* * *

I spent the entire ride staring at the pictures of Jasper I'd printed, trying to figure out what it was about him that had affected me so deeply. It was useless, of course. There didn't seem to be anything extraordinary about him. He was very good-looking, that much was obvious even to me, but what did that matter? I flipped through to the other pictures, perhaps taken during a performance as he was in position with a female dancer. Even in the black and white photos, his passion leaped from the page. The expression on his face, from the rise of his eyebrows to the set of his jaw, the placement of his hands on his partner, everything about his pose made them appear to be lovers, rather than actors.

Was this it? Was this that elusive factor about Jasper that affected me? It reminded me of the passion I'd once had, the way I used to lose myself in my music. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain that was inevitable whenever I thought about my life in Seattle, but instead, I heard a melody. It started small, just a few opening chords, and grew bit by bit. Then it repeated over and over, burning itself into my memory.

A few minutes later, the train approached my stop. I folded the papers and placed them in the book again.

The ballet studio was easy enough to find. I stepped through the doors, surprised to find that the reception desk was empty. I waited for a few minutes to see if anyone would return, but the entrance remained as deserted as it was when I walked in.

I noticed a brochure on the desk for a wine tasting sponsored by the ballet studio, coming up in a couple of weeks. I grabbed one and tucked it into my book for later consideration. Maybe I'd be able to see – even meet – Jasper there.

I walked around the corner to my right, passing a couple of open doors and empty rooms. Finally, I came across a room with the lights on and the door closed. Peeking through the small glass window, I could see a group of ten or so children repeating the same movement over and over. An adult in the front of the room called out instructions. Clearly, this was a class in progress. Not wanting to interrupt, I turned around and headed back to the lobby and this time took the hallway on the left, but it too proved to be just as empty. Just as I was about to turn around, something caught my eye.

In the corner of the last room on the left, there was a piano. It was a basic upright, but its shiny black finish drew me in. I walked slowly over to it and then ran my fingers across the slick surface on the top. I hadn't touched a piano since I left Seattle over three years ago, but somehow it was familiar. The way it felt under my fingers, the way it smelled, everything was so familiar and yet somehow foreign at the same time.

The melody I'd heard in my head while on the metro started playing again. Could I? Would I remember how?

I walked around to the keys and sat on the bench. I rested my fingers on the keys. They seemed to settle instinctively in just the right positions, with my right thumb on middle C. I drew in a breath and pressed down with some fingers, again by instinct.

The clear, rich sound of the C-major chord was simply beautiful. Something in my chest stirred and I couldn't breathe for a moment. Closing my eyes, I listened intently to the melody in my head. Then I willed my fingers to play the tune I heard.

The resulting sound was the most horrific, inharmonious noise I'd ever heard. I practically jumped off the bench in shock. I tried again, adjusting my fingers slightly, producing a less offensive but still awful noise.

I dug my fingers through my hair. Where was I going wrong? I tried again, pressing harder, making the sound louder, as if that would help anything.

Again. And again. And again.

"Are you all right?" a deep, masculine voice said.

I looked up, startled. I hadn't heard anyone come in. Leaning on his arms against the top of the piano was Jasper. It would have been impossible not to recognize him after staring at his picture on the metro. My heart pounded as I waited for him to demand what I was doing here, but his deep blue eyes were full of concern rather than anger.

I swallowed. "I can't get it right. I can hear it in my head, but I can't play it."

I tried again, shifting my hands slightly. It was still awful. I shook my head, wanting to scream in frustration. "It's not right."

As I continued to try to find the right notes, he walked around the piano to stand next to me. He placed his hands on top of mine. My fingers instantly relaxed in the warmth that spread from his hands to mine, cutting off the sound from the piano. My head snapped up and I met his eyes. They were intense and piercing. The moment his hands had touched mine, I felt a calm spreading through my body. My breathing and my heart rate quickly returned to normal and my frustration lessened.

He gently pulled my hands off the keys and placed them in my lap. "Maybe you should just take a break," he said softly.

I had to explain myself to him, make him realize I wasn't some lunatic. "I used to be able to do it…hear music in my head and be able to play it. It used to be my favorite thing to do."

_You still sound like a fucking lunatic._

"Maybe if you had the sheet music, it would help?" he suggested.

I shook my head. "There's no sheet music. It hasn't been written yet." I smirked as I tapped my temple. "It's all in here."

"You write your own music?" The surprise in his voice was unmistakable. Who could blame him?

"Used to," I corrected.

"Could you play something you've written before? Maybe that will help you get back to writing new music."

I held my breath for a moment. Every piece of music I'd written was tied to a memory of the life I'd left behind. _Bella's Lullaby. Esme's Ballad. Carlisle's Opera. The Meadow. _I expected the grief to overtake me. I waited for the walls to cave in.

But nothing came but a slight rawness within my chest. Nothing more painful than what I'd lived with for the past three years. I shook my head slowly. "It's been over three years. I'm not sure I remember…"

I remembered every piece of music I'd ever written, perfectly. Maybe I was able to hold myself together just thinking about it, but actually _playing_ it, _hearing _it – assuming I even still could – would be pushing my luck. I wasn't sure what would be worse, being able to play it and listening to it or not being able to play it at all.

There was always other music to play, though. Yes, something I'd played so many times in the past there would be no way I could have forgotten. "Maybe a Chopin nocturne instead…"

I closed my eyes. My favorite Chopin nocturne. _Chopin Nocturne Op.72 No. 1._

I listened to the music in my mind.

_Key of E minor._

_One sharp. F._

I could hear Jasper moving beside me, but I didn't let that break my concentration. I drew in a deep breath and gently placed my hands on the keys again, letting them fall where it felt right.

I opened my eyes. I was ready. I began with an E-minor scale.

_Perfect_.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Jasper had pulled up a chair and was sitting next to me, watching me. I repeated the scale, and then an E-minor chord for good measure.

And then my fingers started playing. Hours and hours of playing this nocturne had trained my fingers to play it without needing conscious thought. Like riding a bicycle. I couldn't play it at the correct tempo, and my fingers slipped every now and then, hitting a sour note, but that didn't matter.

It was beautiful. It was magical. How had I gone three years without this? I could feel the shift inside me, a feeling of peace, of completeness.

Had I been missing my music as much as I'd been missing Bella?

The longer I played, the more at home I felt. I forgot about Jasper watching me. I forgot about the pain of losing Bella. I forgot about the anguish I'd left on my parents' faces when I told them I was leaving and never coming back.

There was only the music and me.

The final chord faded and the spell broke. I remembered where I was and that Jasper was sitting next to me, watching me play.

I turned to him and smiled. "That has always been one of my favorites. I'm so out of practice."

He just gazed at me, his full lips creating a perfect, red circle and giving his otherwise strong features a sense of vulnerability. It reminded me of the way Emmett had looked while watching Jasper dance. I could feel my cheeks flush at just the thought of Jasper being as awed by my playing the piano as I was by his dancing. After a moment, he blinked. "It was lovely. You should start playing again. And writing music."

My smile widened. I felt like I was truly smiling for the first time in so long. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

He smiled, too. Then, without warning, he stood up and put the chair back under the desk across the room. "I – I've got to go. Thanks for the beautiful music."

I watched him leave the room in a hurry, shocked at his sudden departure. I remembered there was a performance of _The Sleeping Beauty_ this afternoon. He probably had to return to the theater. What was he even doing here? Shouldn't he have been in costume, preparing for his performance?

I took one last longing look at the piano and brushed my fingers along the slick surface again.

* * *

On the trip home, I thought about my brief meeting with Jasper. It was weird and awkward in some ways and yet, in others, I'd felt as comfortable with him as if I'd known him for years. I'd been so distracted by the music and then he'd left so quickly that I really knew nothing more about him now than I did this morning.

The way he looked at me made me feel both flattered and nervous. I didn't want to jump to the conclusion that he was gay – it just seemed rude and cliché given his profession – but I still felt like there was something more behind his intense stare.

All I knew was that there was something about Jasper that kept me calm and peaceful. The underlying depression that I lived with every day was still there, but somehow, when I was with him, it was manageable.

There was a message on my answering machine when I got home. Emmett or a telemarketer?

"Holy shit, you actually left your apartment? I knew going out with me and Rose would be good for you! Call me back, bro."

I rolled my eyes as I dialed Emmett's number. At least a telemarketer could be ignored.

"Dude! Where were you?"

"Hello to you, too, Emmett." I even smiled. Emmett was a pain in the ass, but I did love him.

"Sorry. I'm just so proud of you, little brother." He faked a sob.

"Shut the fuck up. What do you want?"

"Just hear me out, okay? I know I promised not to bug you, but I'm not bugging. I'm just asking, okay?"

"What do you want?" I asked again, this time through clenched teeth, my good humor gone.

The words came out in a rush. "Well, me and Rose are taking her cousin out to dinner tomorrow night, and since you watched the ballet with us, we thought we'd ask if you wanted to come, too."

"I got the feeling Rosalie didn't like me much. Why would she want to go to dinner with me?"

"Well, you know, you could make a better impression this time, maybe?"

"Does she even know you're asking me?"

"Of course she does. Okay, okay, it was my idea, but that's not the point. Stop changing the subject! Are you coming or not?"

I sighed. As much as I'd rather just stay home, it might give me the opportunity to learn more about Jasper, since this afternoon's venture was a bust. I could ask Rosalie's cousin if there truly were no performances in March. Maybe she'd even know if Jasper was attending the wine tasting. Then again, I wasn't not sure spending more time with Jasper was a good idea after making such a complete ass of myself in front of him.

Of course, I'd have to find a way to ask her all this without Rosalie and Emmett hearing. The multitude of questions it would generate from Emmett made my head swim. Questions I didn't even have the answers to myself.

"All right. Where and what time?" I said finally.

"Seriously?"

"Yes…before I change my mind," I threatened.

"The Source. It's a fancy-smancy place in Penn Quarter, right near the Archives-Navy Memorial station. Reservation's for seven o'clock."

A thought occurred to me before I hung up. "Shit, Emmett, this isn't some kind of scheme to set me up with Rosalie's cousin, is it?"

Emmett laughed so loudly that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "Dude, trust me, that's the furthest thing from my mind," he said when he'd recovered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N:**

The Washington Ballet: http://www . washingtonballet . org/

Inspiration for my dancing Jasper: http://www . washingtonballet . org/_webapp_1827223/Nelson_Jared

Chopin Nocturne Op.72 No. 1 http://www . youtube .com/watch?v=I6hcKt7-h4k&feature=related


End file.
